Song of Songs
by starsinjars
Summary: Michael wants Dean to say yes.


Title: Song of Songs

Summary: Michael wants Dean to say yes.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Dean tried his best to keep his hand from shaking, but he couldn't help himself. His fingers trembled as they moved against his will toward the button of his jeans. "No," he whispered, trying his best to take control back. Sam was just in the other bed and after a long journey Dean didn't want to be seen like this.

But his hand would not obey. He unzipped his jeans and started to pull them down. When his pants were around his thighs, Dean's right hand suddenly danced back up his body and started to undo the buttons of his shirt instead. He seriously considered praying to Cas for help, but it hadn't come to that just yet. Dean bit his lip, using his left hand, his in-control-hand, to quickly re-button his shirt; but just as quickly the left one undid them again.

"Damn," he thought to himself. Even though he knew it did no good, his left hand continued to fix his clothes after the right hand messed it up. Over and over this happened, until finally, as if giving up on trying, Dean's right hand suddenly rebelled. Now his two hands were both against him, and made quick work of his button-down and tee shirt. Completely bare save for his boxers, Dean rolled over, into the covers, to hide himself and his odd behavior should his brother wake up. He shortly had to kick them off, body feeling warm and hot.

On his side, Dean tried to curl up into a fetal position, but invisible hands pried him, though gently, to stretch out his legs and turn onto his back. At first he thought that he was imagining the weight that suddenly settled across his hips; but before he had time to wonder just how crazy he was, a familiar young man suddenly materialized before him, straddling his hips and smiling.

"Hello, Dean."

Michael.

It was Michael.

"You again?! What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean demanded, quietly as he could, always keeping his sleeping brother in mind. He took a peek, and saw Sam still sleeping. Dean allowed himself to breathe a small sigh in relief before focusing on the problem at hand.

"Good evening, Dean," Michael said in a smooth, almost sarcastic-sounding voice. He looked- he looked just like Dean's _dad, _and it was all the more shocking with Michael basically sitting on his lap. "Don't worry, I'm not here to hurt you or your baby brother."

Dean's face reddened. "Yeah, well, whatever you want, you can stick it where the sun don't shine. Now get outta here before I make you."

Michael laughed at him, and Dean felt the cold fingers of fear beginning clutch at his belly.

"You can't make me, Dean." He tilted his head to the side, his eyes looking almost black in the dim lighting. "But don't be scared. I'm not doing this to harm you. I just want...to get to know you more. I want you to open up to me, Dean, and say 'yes'. Will you do that for me, Dean?"

"Never," Dean spat, gritting his teeth against his fury. "I never will. You'll have to kill me first."

Michael heaved a world-weary sigh, as though he were dealing with a rambunctious child and not trying to-to _molest _a grown man, or something!

"Let's not do this, Dean," he chided, "Let's just have a nice time. We don't have to talk about your being my perfect vessel, okay? I won't say a word about it. Right now, I just want to feel _you_."

"What-"

Michael placed his finger on Dean's lips and had the audacity to shush him. "You'll see. I'll make you change your mind. We're made for each other, Dean. It's your destiny to be mine."

"I don't give a fuck about destiny," Dean replied, softly, still worried for Sam. He kept taking quick glances at his brother, but seemed to be deep in slumber.

"It's a shame," Michael sighed, making a face as though he were sad- as though he could be sad. "Because destiny certainly has a lot in store for you. But like I said before: no more talking about this. I may be an angel, Dean, but I _do _know how to pleasure a human."

"Pleasure?!" Dean spluttered. "Whoa! Nooo, no no no. No. Look. You. Okay, no. Look, I like women, okay? I just. I want to say that it's not you, but you're fucking psycho, so I can't really- I do not want you, Michael. Sorry. But no."

Michael made that frightening laugh-sound again.

"I don't recall asking you, Dean. And anyway, I know of your feelings for my brother. So do not tell me that you only like women. It doesn't matter. You are restrained. And even if you were not, you are mine. I can always find you. You can't escape me."

Dean blushed madly, still not in terms with his own feelings for his savior. "You...you are really insane, you know that?"

Michael frowned. "What are you talking about? I can't have mental illnesses if I'm not a human. Unless you mean...that what I am saying is…? But Dean, is this not how one speaks to one's lover? Does one not tell one's lover that he is perfect, that he is owned?"

"No, dude. Well, I mean, maybe some people are into that. But I'm not. And I don't wanna be your-your _lover_, or whatever. I don't like you. You are a dick. A really angelic, annoying dick. So if you could just get the hell out and let me sleep, I'd really appreciate it."

Michael frowned. "But you speak to me so casually! You're so...cavalier. Yet I know you are afraid of me. Does this not mean that on some level, you wish to be on intimate terms with me? That in some way, you _do _want me?

"But enough of this." Michael squeezed his hips. "You will submit to me, Dean. I'll make sure of it."

Only then did Dean realize how much time he wasted speaking to the archangel, and started to squirm too late. "I'll submit to you when Hell freezes over!"

Michael smiled. "Would you like that? If you say yes to me I could do that easily."

"Wh-no, you idiot, it's an expression! Just- look, just let me go. If you let me go, I'll...I'll _think _about agreeing. How's that?"

"No deal," Michael said, running his hands lightly up Dean's bare chest. "I won't reconsider. I want you, Dean. Isn't that enough? Doesn't that interest you at all?"

Dean's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and his breath caught in his chest when he noticed how intensely Michael stared at it. His eyes were darkened with obvious lust.

"Dabbling in carnal pleasures, I see," Dean said shakily. "What would your father say?"

Brown eyes studied Dean's mostly naked body, Dean already blush from the warmth he felt. "You're lovely, Dean," Michael said, pointedly ignoring Dean's question. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Dean chuckled nervously, still struggling fruitlessly. "They usually don't get around to it."

"That is their mistake, then, because you are. They don't appreciate you, Dean. They don't admire your beauty, your compassion, your noble nature as they ought. Even though you are wrong, it is still charming to watch you defend what you believe in so strongly. I'm not like everyone else, Dean. I see you as how my Father sees all you humans. I will honor you as you should be honored. Enjoy you as you should be enjoyed." He leaned down, to within inches of Dean's face. "I will worship you, Dean," he whispered. "Let me show you."

"I doubt your father would be pleased to find his first angel worshiping a human."

"Don't be ridiculous. My Father told us to love you humans more than we love him. And I always obey my father. I'm a good son. And as a good son, allow me to love you more than I love myself."

"Uh, that won't be necessary, thanks," Dean said, turning his face away from Michael's compelling gaze. "I don't want _your _kind of love. I want..." and suddenly he felt the need to admit it, "I want _real _love. I want the real deal, ya know? Someone who actually, you know, talks to me and knows me and actually cares about me. Not...'American Psycho: Angel Edition'. Nothing personal. Maybe it's selfish, but. But I want to, for once, be with someone who actually wants what's best for _me_, and isn't using me for… for all those things people use me for." The exposure to his true feelings cut Dean raw, but for some reason he was left with a feeling of warmth and acceptance.

Michael touched his cheek with almost-gentleness, wiping away a tear that Dean did not notice he'd shed. As if he understood, or cared, or something.

"I know, Dean," Michael said with a smile. "I know everything about you; I know this need of yours. This empty, feeling, that piece of yourself that's missing- that's for me to complete."

"No, thanks," Dean said evenly. "I don't want you to fill it. I want to do it, or at least find it, for myself."

"Your independence is adorable," Michael said with a chuckle, watching Dean the way someone might watch a kitten try to figure out how to climb stairs. Condescending but affectionate. Amused at his failure, but in a kindly sort of way. Dean didn't like it, but he supposed it was better than his previous lustful stares. "But it can only get you so far. Come now, no more games. I came here for a reason, and I intent to fulfill my purpose."

Michael's eyes dropped from Dean's, down to Dean's throat, then to his collarbones.

"I wonder what it'll feel like on my tongue?" he said suddenly, and before Dean could register what he meant, Michael pressed his open mouth against his clavicle, his tongue laving into the little indentation in the middle.

Dean gasped at the sudden heat against his skin.

"Damn it, Michael," Dean hissed, "My brother is right there! Get the fuck out!"

Michael turned his face to look dispassionately at the still-sleeping Sam. "He won't wake up. I made sure of it. Now relax and try to enjoy this."

Dean tried to struggle, but even he knew it was futile. The archangel was much stronger than him. "I don't want to enjoy it, you asshole. I want you to stop. No means no."

Michael kissed Dean on the mouth to shut him up. "No more talking, if you please. I know you'll enjoy it once you let yourself relax." And, against his will, Dean could feel his heart calm and his breathing become even.

As if to illustrate his point, he brought up one of his hands to caress Dean's nipple. Dean shuddered, his breath catching in his throat. Michael smirked that creepy-but-sexy smirk again. "What did I tell you? Now then, where was I…"

He lowered his mouth to Dean's chest, to trace with his tongue the same path his fingers had gone. Dean clenched his teeth against the sensation, trying to keep control of his mind since he couldn't control his own damned body.

But then Michael pulled off of Dean's nipple with an obscene pop, lips all red from sucking, and said, "You like that, do you?" His voice was growing husky with desire.

"Fuck you," Dean replied breathlessly, but his words had no venom to them. And anyway, Michael must have already known that he'd won, because of a certain something pressing traitorously against his abdomen. Ignoring his reply, Michael continued on to the other nipple before moving to Dean's neck.

Adding to Dean's list of betrayals was the feeling of tears prickling at his eyes. That there was no escape had started to sink in, and Dean was beginning to despair. And though Michael was not doing anything to physically damage him, there was nothing he could do about the pain in his heart.

"I know you're enjoying this, Dean. I can feel it. In both your body and soul."

Dean stared at him, feeling not for the first time as though he were broken. The difference was that this time, he didn't think there would be anything left to repair. He didn't even have the will to make Michael an answer.

"Don't you feel complete?" Michael said as he moved his tongue to taste Dean's chest. "Feel as if the emptiness is finally being filled for the first time?"

"I feel like you're ripping my heart into pieces." Dean hardly recognized his own voice, weighted as it was with emotional exhaustion.

Michael continued to lick and suck on Dean's skin, not seeming to care at all about Dean's lack of reciprocation. He took advantage of Dean's dazed state to kiss him deeply. "I can taste you, Dean. '_Milk and honey are under thy tongue'-_it's like it was written for you. " He kissed him again, more slowly this time. "'_Thy lips are like a thread of scarlet; you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes.''_"

"I _know _you're not butchering the Bible. I thought you were the good son, Daddy's favorite?" Dean struggled to retain some of his snark. If he couldn't fight physically, the least he could do was to not be pleasant about it.

Michael chuckled. "Since the beginning of mankind it was known that you would be my vessel. Is it that hard to believe that it's specifically aimed towards you?"

"Well, yeah."

"If I weren't so keen on hearing the lovely sounds which you will be making presently, I would take your voice for a while."

_Bastard,_ Dean thought, even while he found himself arching up into Michael's touch, _Fucking bastard._

Michael kissed his way down Dean's body and right to his groin. He looked with relish upon Dean's cock, hard and aching for more contact. He leaned in, mouth open and ready, but blew cold air, causing Dean to twitch.

Michael chuckled. "As I thought. Eager, aren't you?"

"N-no!" Dean sputtered, face all red. He renewed his efforts to release himself, no longer caring about keeping Sam asleep. If anything, the sasquatch should be awake with all the noise around, and the least he could do was give Dean a hand!

"Sam! Sam, help me!"

"He can't hear you right now, Dean. It's just me and you; no one else is watching. Not even my little brother, spying as he was earlier. You're kind of adorable, though, all raring to go like this. It's alright, you can admit it."

"Kiss my ass," Dean growled, fighting against the pleasure that threatened to short out his brain.

"Don't mind if I do." And before Dean could say anything, Michael had him flipped over onto his belly, making his cock rub deliciously against the sheets. It took all of his self-control to keep himself from humping his bed like a fucking dog, to keep enough wits about him to turn his face away from the pillow so he could at least breathe.

Michael, in the meanwhile, was making good on his threat, and pressing his lips against various spots along Dean's buttocks, licking around his entrance before plunging his tongue inside.

Dean started at the unexpected intrusion and tried to pull away from the sensation, but to his horror his wrists were pinned to his sides by invisible restraints. Even more horrifying, part of him enjoyed this...this whatever it was. He'd never had a dude's tongue up his ass but it was not like he might think it would be.

Michael pulled out to run his tongue along Dean's spine, causing for him to shudder. He grabbed Dean's chin to pull him in for a kiss, but there was no way in hell Dean wanted to know what his ass tasted like. He wrenched his face away, even though it sort of smothered him the the motel's grimy pillows. _Anything _was better than literally eating shit.

"Now, Dean, there's no reason to act like that." Michael moved his hands to caress Dean's chest, pausing to fondle at his nipples. "Don't be such a child. Come on." And he tried to coax Dean's face out of the pillow.

Dean refused to budge, concentrating hard to fight Michael's will. Michael sighed, tsking. "It seems you need a better incentive." He slipped his hand under Dean's body to grab Dean's cock and squeeze hard. Gasping, Dean arched back against Michael's body. His open mouth made it much easier for Michael to shove two fingers, and Dean instinctively wanted to gag at the taste, only to find himself sucking for the sweet flavors of milk and honey.

"What did I tell you?" Michael whispered against Dean's ear, voice husky. "You taste so sweet, Dean." He licked the shell of Dean's ear, nipping gently at the ear lobe. Dean wanted to cry out, but Michael took that moment to shove his fingers down Dean' s throat. Dean had his gag reflex under control, but it still made him want to be sick.

He whimpered against the intruding fingers and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but still a few tears managed to trickle down his cheeks. This was just too much. Shame swelled in his stomach. He didn't want to like this, but his cock was as hard as ever. His own body had gone rogue on him.

"Don't cry, my beautiful one," Michael murmured almost kindly. His hand moved from Dean's mouth to his cheek, wiping away the tears. To his horror, Dean found himself longing to have the fingers back inside him, addicted to the sweet taste.

"Everything is all right, Dean," Michael said, sitting up and moving back to straddle Dean's thighs. He admired Dean's backside for a moment or two, before slipping one of his still-wet fingers inside, Dean giving a small gasp at the intrusion.

"Look how intimately we are joined. Your cock, your mouth on my hand, and my hand inside you. Tell me how you like it, Dean, because I know that you do. I can feel that you do."

Dean furiously shook his head, having lost his voice along with his sanity with what Michael was saying. He didn't even bother to really struggle anymore. He barely flinched when Michael added a second finger, then a third, trying to coax Dean's muscles to comply. It was as if it would never end, as if he'd be stuck there forever, pinned to a bed while God's right-hand man tried to fit his hand up Dean's ass. Dulled by horror and exhaustion, Dean could barely even keep his thoughts coherent.

"Now, my beloved vessel, we will be truly connected. Well, as truly connected as we can be until you say 'yes'. Relax, my precious one, and let me in."

And without further preparation, Michael braced his hands against Dean's hips, and pushed himself inside.

Vaguely, as if in a dream, Dean registered that the physical pain was no longer comparable to the emotional damage. It hurt, oh by god did it hurt, but it felt like phantom pain, as though none of it were real, as though it were only a nightmare. He couldn't scream, he couldn't breathe, All he could do was let Michael use him.

Michael moved against him, thrusting slowly at first, and then picking up his pace, all the while grunting things that Dean only half understood.

"This is how it was meant to be, Dean. Can't you feel the rightness of it? Can't you feel the perfection of our union?"

Horrendously, some small part of Dean agreed. Some small AWOL part of him leapt with joy at Michael's words, and finally did feel complete. _Maybe this is how it should be, _it said. _Maybe Michael was right all along. Maybe we belong together, maybe this would be righter than anything, maybe it would be perfect._

He heard moaning that he knew had to have been his own, and he could feel that his erection was quite intact. That he was getting off on this, enjoying it. That he wanted this, and he wanted more.

"'_Ah, you are beautiful, my beloved!''_" It seemed that Michael's praises knew no end. "_'My darling, my beloved one, my spouse!'_"

All the while, Dean was at war with himself. _No, I'm not yours! I'm my own person! Let me own myself, at least, if I can't have anything else! But no, he's right, and I'm glad of it; I belong to someone, I belong to him, I am his beloved, his vessel…_

Michael kept a firm grip on Dean's cock, squeezing it hard and fingering the head while Dean fucked himself into it. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh was lost to Dean's moans, moving in sync with Michael as he continued to pound into him.

"Peace, peace," Michael was whispering, "peace," and then Dean came so hard that his vision whited out, and the only thought in his mind was _peace_.

When his vision returned, Dean became dimly aware that he had been flipped over onto his back, and Michael's face was hovering over him.

"Oh," he murmured, smiling beatifically, "I knew you would enjoy it once you let me into your heart! We're not quite through, but I promise that this part will be just as pleasant."

Dean stared at him dully. There was nothing Michael could possibly do that would be "more pleasant" than what he'd already done.

Michael tongued his way down Dean's torso, following the fine trail of hair down to Dean's cock, now limp and reddened from their previous activities. He lowered his head, and without warning, took Dean into his mouth. Dean shuddered, his nerves oversensitive from the stimulation. Michael took his fidgeting as encouragement, and began to suck earnestly, as though he could will Dean's cock back into hardness. Dean groaned, and unconsciously put his hand behind Michael's head to pull Michael closer to his groin.

Michael chuckled deep in his throat, and the vibration was hell on Dean's cock, burning-sweet and painfully hot. He couldn't control himself, and began to fuck Michael's delicious mouth.

Soon Michael had to pull away, because he was laughing too much. He put a hand on Dean's thigh, to prevent Dean from humping the air. Merriment sparkled in his eyes as he said, "You're so eager! Isn't it much better this way?"

Dean's will finally broke.

"Yes!" he sobbed, gulping huge breaths of air, "Yes, it is…"

Michael tutted and touched Dean's cheek with questionable fondness, and then looked back to Dean's groin. Unbelievably, he was getting hard again.

"I saved the best part for last, Dean. Are you ready, my beautiful one?"

Not waiting for an answer, Michael gently moved to kneel between Dean's legs, and spread them a bit further.

"Now you will know for sure just how close we're meant to be."

And he began to fuck Dean again, this time looking into his face, into Dean's eyes. Dean had no choice but to look back, look into Michael possessing his father's eyes.

It was almost horrifying, the gentleness of it, the carefulness of it. It was as though Michael fancied that he was making love to Dean, as though he really and truly believed that Dean did want this, had asked for this.

The scariest thing is that Dean couldn't deny it for sure.

Michael didn't even pause as he continued to pound into Dean, intertwining his fingers with Dean's as though they were lovers. Dean could hear him loud and clear over his moans and the ringing in his ears.

"This is how it was meant to be, Dean. Can't you feel the rightness of it? Can't you feel the perfection of our union?"

Michael's eyes in the borrowed face of Dean's father were saturated with lust and locked intently on Dean's face.

"This is the truth, Dean. The truth, the light. This is good, this is love. This is as it should be. '_Ve'ahavat olam ahavtikh, al ken meshakhtikh chasid_.'"

Dean recognized it as Hebrew, but Sam was the language buff, not him. He really needed an app for that. But he didn't have enough in him to care. All that mattered was that he and Michael were finally together, just as they should be. His soul said it; his soul recognized Michael and was joyfully, truly, finally united with him.

And with a deep breath, Dean just had to say, "Yes."

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A/N: Thanks for reading!


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